


Mind to Mind

by Meeralith



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alien Romance, Explicit Consent, F/M, Gift of Life, I only write straight stuff when there's an Alien and/or a monster involved yall, Telepathy, Wraith Feeding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-29 22:23:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13936650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meeralith/pseuds/Meeralith
Summary: Blood-Tainted, they call her, with her ability to hear the Wraith whisper to her. Anger, she feels, contempt, but her life is about to change when she takes the initiative to save a Wraith's life.





	1. 1

Mind to Mind

Chapter 1

It's been barely an hour since the crash had shaken the village, and everyone's already in a heated panic. Mothers yelling at their children to stay in their houses, the young and courageous arming themselves with pitchforks and kitchen knives to go 'hunt down the intruder', the elderly shivering in fear, those with authority coming together in the square to keep the masses calm, to find a way to deal with the new threat.

Sihah is keeping to herself, watching the commotion from her window. They're right to be afraid, she can tell. There's a presence, not too far from the village, a single mind, slumbering. But she can still sense it.  
She was born like this, able to sense the Wraith, and speak to them. Mostly, they just whisper to her, intentionally or not. At first, she's repeated their words to the village, back when she was little, but the more she revealed, the more she was shunned.  
Soon enough, the word 'Blood-Tainted' was said, and Sihah began to withdraw.  
She stopped warning them, stopped blocking the Wraith out, stopped feeling pity for her fellow humans. If her blood is tainted as they say, if she's not fully human herself, then so be it.

The Wraith is nearby, but he's not conscious. His mind is a mess, thoughts whirling indecipherably, pain being the most prominent of his feelings. He's injured, Sihah knows that much.

She closes her curtains, and turns her back to the window. Her living space isn't big, but she hardly ever has anyone to share it with anyways. She's lived alone for years now, ever since her mid-teens.  
Theoretically...

Her mind reaches out again, searching for the dormant Wraith. It's gotten easy, natural to do that. Often, when hiding from a Culling, she's done this just for fun, to pass the time. Connected to the Wraith, sought conversation.  
Usually, they shut her out. Sometimes, they respond. Show her frightening images, let her watch as they feed on people she used to know. Over time, it stopped fazing her.  
The last few Cullings she lived through had been different. She's found herself in actual exchanges with the Wraith, not those one-sided ones she's used to. One time, she has lead them to the villager's hiding spot.  
Another time, she stood out in the open, as the Darts shot across the skies. None of them collected her. 

Ever since she started talking to them, Cullings have become more frequent, faster and harder to survive for the rest.  
For the first time, she's being rightfully blamed for misfortune.

She exits her home through the back door, facing the woods. The presence is faint, but she's positive she can locate it. The Wraith is not conscious, passed out or sleeping, so he doesn't respond to her, but she doesn't need him to.

The woods aren't thick, this close to the village, thinned out through the population, and Sihah doesn't need to worry about wild animals crossing her path.  
She leaves the established paths, following the Wraith's presence, and soon, she finds torn down trees, scorch marks, and prominent swath cut into the forest by a crashing ship.

The scent of burnt wood enters her nostrils, and she can see small embers still gleaming in the foliage. She's close.  
Bits and pieces of charred debris cover the area, probably from the ship, and Sihah finds herself in a larger clearing.  
Still with a trail of burnt grass behind it, the Dart rests there, smoke still rising from the wreckage.

Sharpening her mind, Sihah approaches.  
The canopy is open, the ship's nose buried in the soil, and she walks around, to get an unobstructed look into the cockpit.  
She's never seen a Wraith in person before.

As expected, he's unconscious, a trickle of dark, almost black blood staining his hair, and running down the side of his face.  
He's pale green, but stained with darker bruises on his forehead, eyes closed and mouth slightly agape, showing the very tips of razor-sharp teeth. Though dirtied with blood, his hair is very fair, well-groomed and tied back, held together by a silver clasp.  
Sihah stares.  
She's not entirely sure what to do, now that she's reached him. Her gentle attempt in touching his mind goes without a response, and she huffs. Soon, the hunting squads will depart, and skim the woods for survivors of the crash.

Going out on a limb, she climbs up, resting one knee on the edge of the cockpit, and grabs the Wraith's arm. Still no reaction.  
She pulls, and heaves his lifeless form up, draping his arm over her shoulder, and lifting him with her full body strength. Her gaze remains on the delicate slit in his palm for a brief moment, but she quickly focuses on her mission again.

Despite his slender form, the Wraith is quite heavy, but having carried firewood, worked on the field and provided for herself most of her life, Sihah finds the strength necessary to drag him.  
His feet scrape over the ground, completely limp in her grasp. She wraps her arm around his waist to keep him upright, and begins walking.

Her pace is slow, labored, and she quickly finds herself sweating under his weight. Regardless, she carries on valiantly, knowing that they would both die, should the villagers find her carrying him. Again and again, she reaches out to his mind, but he remains silent.

The noise is still very prominent when she reaches the village again. She breathes a sigh of relief. They're still arguing about what to do.  
She unlocks her backdoor with her free hand, and enters her home again.

Still dragging him along, she moves to her bed and slumps the Wraith down on the sheets. Standing there helpless, and ponders what to do now, that she's taken him to relative safety. He will need to feed soon, and she knows how that works. Brushing the thought aside, she sits down beside him.

He's still not responding to her, and she will need to prevent him from dying in his sleep before he has the opportunity to feed on anyone. Sihah undoes the clasps holding his coat closed. Life threatening wounds would be located on his torso, she thinks, and peels the leathers off with a wet sound.

He's covered in blood, lacerations, bruises and something akin to actual stab wounds littering his chest. Suddenly, Sihah is quite grateful that he wasn't awake during her trek home, since she's applied a lot of pressure to his sides. It'd likely have hurt him a lot.

She fetches a set of supplies she's used to tend to her own wounds often, and begins cleaning the open injuries. There's not much she claims to know about Wraith physiology, but she expects that infections won't help his case.  
Wiping off the blood, dabbing the wounds with alcohol, she proceeds, and soon enough, he doesn't look as terrible as before. Meticulously, she wraps him in bandages, just enough pressure to stop the bleeding, taking the time to clean the wound on his forehead as well.

It takes her a good hour, but when she's done tending to his wounds, she feels quite proud of herself. Still, he hasn't even stirred yet.

Perhaps a good thing, she muses, rather certain that he'd just feed on the first human he sees when he does wake. Now, she just needs to ensure that this human is not her.

She parts her curtains, and peeks outside. The crowd has scattered, likely headed out to hunt down the Wraith. A bitter sense of satisfaction fills her. They'll think he's awake, and left the crash site, which would in turn, cause them not to stop their search.  
Buying her time.

She hurries into her kitchen, and fetches a small bottle from the cabinets. A herbal concoction she's brewed herself, and used to defend herself from overly eager villagers, who would seek her out and demand vengeance after every culling.  
Sihah reaches for the first rag she gets her hands on, and dribbles the substance onto the fabric. Stuffing it into her pocket, she leaves her house through the front door, and locks it behind her.

Her heart races, as she stalks the alleys, catching some people's gazes, suspicious and full of hate. She grins. Time to give them a reason to truly hate her.

She makes eye contact with one of the younger men, still carrying a knife. He's probably returning from his hunt, she wonders, and sees his brows furrow. Young and angry, a worthy adversary. She smiles at him, and retreats, closer to her home.

As expected, he follows her, spinning his knife, eager to take out his frustrations out on her. She fiddles with her front door, and enters, leaving it open, and hiding in the kitchen.  
Seconds later, the man rushes in, spots the sleeping Wraith and pauses. Like Sihah, he's likely never seen one before, and the sight leaves him in a brief stupor.

That's all Sihah needs.

She jumps out, grabs the man from behind, kicking her door shut as she does, and presses the rag onto his nose and mouth. He stirs violently, struggling and kicking outward, but his movements slow as the inhales the evaporations.  
She sinks to the ground along with him, gently laying him down, to avoid a suspicious noise. When she's certain that he's out cold, she removes the rag, and tosses it aside.

Eagerly, she props the man up on a chair, tying him down with thin rope. Just as she finds herself worrying if the bindings will hold long enough, she hears a rattling breath behind her, and spins on her heel.

The Wraith as sat up, and is examining the dressings on his wound, then looks up to her. Immediately, she straightens herself, and reaches out to his mind He flinches away from the contact, a confused look on his strained face.  
Sihah tries to calm her breathing, and focuses to show him images of herself peeling out of the wreckage, of her tending to his wounds.

He responds with a quiet snarl, his upper lip pulling back to expose his teeth.  
Sihah steps aside, and points to the sedated man.

“I brought you food.” she says aloud, and sees his gaze wander from her to the man, and a split second later, he's up on his feet, lunging at his prey and slamming his hand down on his chest.  
A sizzling noise emits from them, and Sihah sees the man fade under the Wraith's touch. Grey creeping through his previously dark hair, wrinkles carving themselves into his youthful face.

She stares. The Wraith hisses, and looks up to her.  
'Can you handle this?' she feels him ask, and nods wordlessly. Again he hisses, his eyelids falling in ecstasy, as his victim fades. When he finally withdraws his hand, the man is but a drained, dried up husk.  
Sihah tries to feel remorse, but she can't.

The Wraith approaches her menacingly, his blood-covered hand flexing at his side, and stops inches away from her. She can feel his rattling breath on her face, and her heart jumps in her chest.  
“Do you feel better?” she asks, her voice trembling, but not fearful. “I can get you more if you want.”

He looks down, and lifts his hand to peel off the dressings from his chest. There's fresh, smooth skin now, just a little stained from blood, but the wounds have completely healed, not even hinting at scarring.

“I see.” Sihah responds.

“I felt you.” he says, the multifaceted timbre of his voice shaking her to her very core. “You searched for me.”  
“I knew you had survived.” she responds. “The villagers set out to hunt you down and kill you. I had to act.”  
“Why?” is his simple question to her, and she feels her courage falter.

“Because I wanted to save you.” she replies, and does her best not to flinch when his hand comes to rest on her chest. It feels warm, still wet with blood, and there's movement under his palm, the feeding slit parting, and latching to her skin.

“I could kill you.” he says, and Sihah reaches up, to touch his cheek, Still, she feels no fear. Only excitement and... something she cannot name.  
“I know.” she simply states, and lightly strokes his cheek, letting her fingers trail along the fine contours of his alien face.  
He closes his eyes.

“I will not.” he finally continues. “I owe you my life. I must not take yours.”  
Regardless, there's a stinging pain under her collarbone, the sensation of skin breaking, but the searing agony she expects never comes.  
Instead, warmth spreads from the incision, through her entire body. Heat, rising, flowing into her body at a slow, controlled pace, filling every fiber of her being with pure bliss. She feels weightless, floating, and for this moment, everything falls into place, the universe aligns before her, everything feels right.

Adrenaline surges through her veins, and she feels the Wraith by her side, closer and warmer than she's ever felt a mind lock with hers. Sensations and images flood her mind, too fast to make sense of, and she becomes light headed.

Her vision goes blank, and she feels her knees sag, then the feeling subsides. When her vision clears, she finds herself on the ground, the Wraith having sunken down with her, his hand still attached to her chest, arm folded between their bodies.  
His free hand is on her back, pressing her against him, and her head rests on his shoulder. He smells of her antiseptics, and pines.

She draws breath heavily, and he releases her, a brief sting telling her that he's peeled his hand from her.  
There's still a struggle for balance, when she scrambles to her feet again. Her mind feels cold, as if someone has removed a blanket from her, and she finds herself yearning to be enveloped like this again. She trips, and has to steady herself on her windowsill.

The Wraith looks over to her. He's moved back to the bed, and is cleaning the inside of his coat from dried blood.  
“Do not be concerned. Your vertigo will fade. It is not uncommon that the Gift affects a human so.” he explains, and she looks up, still reeling.  
“The Gift?” she parrots, and he inclines his head downward.  
“Yes. It felt appropriate to reward you for what you have done for me.” he confirms, and slips into his coat again.

A sense of fear shakes her.  
“So, you consider your debt repaid? You will just leave?” she asks, her voice somewhat shrill with impeding panic. He looks at her intently, and his mind enters hers again. She feels him rifling through her thoughts, and makes no attempt to stop him.

“You do not wish to stay with your kin.” he almost reports his findings.  
“No. No, I want to leave. I need to leave. They'll kill me soon enough.” 

Fully dressed, the Wraith approaches her, his off hand lifting her chin.  
“You wish to come home with me.” he presumes and she nods, blinking away the tears burning in her eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The Wraith sits on her bed, regarding her idly, as she cleans up the medical supplies he's ripped off himself, and dumps them in the trash. She reckons, she'll have to burn them, as they have clearly inhuman blood on them. Her sheets are also bled through.

She pauses, looking at the dried up corpse on the knocked over chair. The Wraith follows her gaze.  
“You caught him for me.” he remarks, and she nods. “How did you manage?”

Smiling faintly, Sihah picks up the discarded rag and shows it to him.  
“I laced this with a herbal solution that knocked him out cold.” she tells him. “I just had to lure him here, and that was easy.”  
He raises his hand, showing her the still blood-sullied palm.  
“You knew, I would kill him.” he says, and Sihah nods.  
“I knew you were hungry.” she confirms. “They villagers despise me. Why should I care for their lives?”  
“They are your kin.” he simply states, and she offers a shrug.  
“Are they? They call me tainted, inhuman. Are they truly my kin?” She pauses to gesture to her temples. “I have been able to hear your kind for as long as I could remember. I'm not like other humans, and they know this. I don't belong to them.”

“Then where do you belong?” the Wraith asks, his voice calm and almost melodious. Sihah sits down beside him.  
“I do not know.” she admits. “I feel trapped between two worlds. For now, I belong to myself. I am the only one who has not failed me yet.”  
He angles his head curiously, and she feels his presence brush over hers. A shiver runs through her form, but she makes so attempt to shut him out.  
“Your mind carries a certain element of familiarity.” he finally speaks aloud. “As I laid dying in my Dart, I felt you reach out to me. I could not respond, yet, clouded through my fever dreams, you felt like a Wraith. I believed another of my Hive having crashed along with me.”  
She raises her brows.  
“So, I did reach you.” she hums.  
“Yes. I did not have the strength to respond, but I considered myself safe in my kin's care.” he elaborates. “You may understand my initial reaction upon awakening.”  
“I attributed it to the blood loss you sustained.” she admits, but the Wraith shakes his head.

“More than just that.” he says, and she feels him connect to her fully now.  
His mind envelops hers, warmth spreading in her heart, and she understands him. He feels comfortable like this, entwined with her consciousness. Wraith live like this, linked to each other. To him, she's a piece of home, safety, and... affection?

She flips back to reality when she feels a tender touch on her face, him mimicking her gesture from earlier. Claws lightly trace over her skin, not hard enough to cause pain. Breaking her stupor, she shifts toward him, and looks up into his eyes.  
Gold, slit pupils dilating open. He looks regal, she notes, elegant, with his defined features and the silver strands of hair framing his face.  
His hand comes to rest at the side of her neck.  
Sihah breathes audibly. She can't recall the last time someone's touched her without the intent to cause her pain.

The Wraith freezes, and removes his hand from her neck; Sihah shakes her head quickly.  
'No. I am fine' she conveys to him, letting him feel just how much she yearns for this, for affection and comfort.  
Normally, she doesn't realize just how touch-starved she is, but this tiny gesture leaves her crying for more.   
He raises his hand to its original position again, and she notices him carefully scanning her body language and mind alike, looking for signs of discomfort. Quickly, Sihah layers her own hand on top of his, and trails it along his arm, up to his shoulder. Her fingers tangle with his hair, and she marvels at how soft it feels. His thumb swipes over her chin, and she sees a hint if fascination in his eyes.

“You are odd.” he says aloud. “Do I not repulse you?”

Sihah leans closer in response, closer to him, to his face. Careful, but flowing like a dancer, his posture changes; he turns toward her, his other hand lightly touching her side, and he leans in as well, downward, to accommodate for their height difference. Sihah feels her heart rate pick up again, so close to him, and pushes forward, to rest her forehead against his. She sees him closing his eyes when she makes contact.

Shyly, she reaches out into their mental contact, and feels nothing but comfort from him. He feels warm, warm and safe.  
When he opens his eyes again, to look into hers, his pupils are blown wide, almost circular, instead of slit. His hand travels up, to cup her cheek, and a different emotion bleeds into their contact.  
Something other than warmth, something even warmer, something burning.

A pleasantly prickling shiver runs down Sihah's spine when she discerns what it is that the Wraith feels: Desire.

His touch is that of a lover, and she decides to take initiative. She angles her head, and presses her lips against his. The burning sensation in their connection flares up and he returns the pressure briefly, before parting his lips and locking them against hers, sucking on her lower lip, his mind conveying a demand to her, gentle, but firm.  
Sihah lightly touches his upper lip with her tongue, a tiny nudge, but he responds eagerly, capturing her into the kiss, and running his own tongue against hers. She briefly brushes against his teeth, taking a second to note how smooth they are, like glass. 

She feels his grip on her side tighten somewhat, and pulls away from the kiss with a wet gasp. The Wraith looks at her neutrally, but his eyes glitter with need. Their connection makes any sort of worry from him redundant, he knows very well that she wants this, craves it with every fiber of her being.

“So sinful.” she whispers. “They'll burn me at the stake.”  
He angles his head at her, and she runs her hand through his hair.  
“I'll burn with a smile.” she continues, and leans back in; this time it's her capturing his lips.

Both his hands rest on her hips now, and he pulls her onto his lap, pressing against her back, clinging to her like a drowning man. Sihah leans willingly into his embrace, and feels him moan softly into their kiss, followed by a low, ongoing rumble, making his chest vibrate.

He's purring.

The mental connection tightens, he draws her in further, and yet she senses him feeling like he can't be close enough to her. There's a sense of devotion in his presence, adoration even. She knows, he'll let her do whatever she wants with him, in fact, he's begging for it.

She gives him a light push, enticing him to lie down on his back. Golden shimmer in his eyes, as he looks up to her, awe and anticipation rippling through his presence, and she trails her index finger along his jawline, lets it drop to his collar, and begins unclasping his coat, his gaze following her every move.

'No one has ever looked at me the way you do.' she tells him through their contact, and the Wraith briefly closes his eyes.  
'I desire you,' he responds, somehow managing to sound hoarse with his mental voice. 'You need not care about what humans think of you. Not anymore.'

Her breath hitches in a stifled sob, and she leans down, kissing him hard.   
'You'll take me away from here. Won't you?' she asks him, while her tongue flicks against his.  
'You saved my life.' he responds. 'I will save yours.'

Sihah pulls out of the kiss, and sits back up, letting his words unfold their full meaning. She feels a tiny little poke in their mental contact, just him wordlessly asking if she's alright. She nods, opening her mind further to allow him access to her emotions, the turmoil, the fear she's dealing with, the hate and scorn, the loneliness and anger, truly, what his words mean to her.  
Escape. A new life, somewhere far away.

'With me?' she feels him ask.  
'If you'll have me.' she responds, and finds herself deeper in his mind, his turn to show her his inner truths.

There's pain and panic, as the Dart's controls malfunction, his body shutting down, but his mind still operating properly. She feels him worry for his safety, well aware this this planet is inhabited, and he's defenseless, injured, hungry. The warm, gentle presence seeking his, and he wants to hold on, scream for aid, but his mind won't follow his will. The constant attempts to wake him, the comfort that fills him, when he comes to the conclusion that he's safe. His consciousness surfacing, and picking up on her presence, and bliss as he feeds.   
Gratitude, as he pumps the life into her. Curiosity, as he watches her clean up, respect, and a growing sense of affection.  
She feels him want her, need her, feels herself kiss him, the burn of her body heat, and-...

He withdraws, and she senses something akin to shame.  
'Please.' he begs, the flood of memories having reached the present. Sihah trails from his collarbone down to the band of his leather pants, and he starts purring again.  
His chest rises and falls quickly, and he closes his eyes, arching toward her.

He's beautiful. The dimmed moonlight falling into the room through the curtains gives his skin a silvery shine, similar to his hair, fanned out around his head. Angelic, Sihah thinks. Ethereal.   
Her thought doesn't go unnoticed, and she feels a breathy chuckle shake his form briefly.

'It's true.' she defends herself, and feels a gentle jest in his mental presence.  
'Some would describe me as a demon. You call me angelic.' he muses to her.

A click unlatches his pants, and she scoots backward, to pull them down. There's slik underneath, black silk shimmering in the light, and a very visible bulge shifting the fabric.  
His mind embraces hers, tiny tendrils probing and prodding her, making sure she wants this as much as he does, and there's not a doubt for him to find.

The Wraith throws his head back and hisses with pleasure, when Sihah shucks down his silken underwear as well, and wraps her hand around his shaft.  
It's quite large, she muses, and feels smooth to the touch. There's a set of ridges at its sides, calloused and firm. Sihah runs her thumb along them, rubbing the lowered spaces between the ridges.

The Wraith's purring hitches.   
She increases the pressure, and locks her other hand around the upper portion of his erection, and lightly massages him, eliciting a hungry moan from him. She's thrilled, and speeds up, clenching and unclenching her hands around his length in a pulsing rhythm.  
His hips start moving, lightly thrusting up, into her hands; Sihah knits the connection to his mind tighter, but finds little more than a drowsy haze, and pure, primal need.

He moans, his verbal voice absolutely wrecked with arousal. In response, Sihah removes one hand, and uses the other to pick up her pace, pumping him with ambitious grace. He punctuates every stroke with a tiny roll of his hips, increasing friction.  
She looks up, to his face. He's bitten down on his lower lip, eyes shut, with a crease between his browbones. Focusing on her touch.  
Occasionally, he lifts his chin, and breathes heavily, every odd movement she makes is rewarded with a low growl.

His back arches, in a fluid, wave-like motion with his hip rolls, and Sihah notices how his hands have clawed down on her sheets, tearing holes into the fabric.  
She wraps her left hand around his base again, and continues massaging his tip with her right, squeezing lightly.  
He sharply draws breath.

'I'm close:' she feels him whisper into her mind, his mental voice trembling, as if he's having difficulty keeping it coherent.  
That warning is just encouragement to her, and she speeds up again increasing pressure, and pausing occasionally to circle the head with her thumb. The Wraith trembles under her touch, and his back arches, head thrown back

His climax is silent, but in Sihah's mind, he cries out. It ripples through him like a tidal wave, and she helps him ride it out, gently trailing one hand up and down his length, while he spills slightly off-colored come over her fingers.  
It takes him a few minutes to recover enough to speak.

“You” he breathes, his verbal voice not much more than a faint whisper. “have more power than you think.”  
She wipes her hands clean on her sheets, and watches him fix himself, pulling his pants back up, but leaving his belt open. Wordlessly, she glances at him, his disheveled form, the dark emerald flush still lingering on his face, the sweat glistening on his chest.

This certainly isn't how she expected her day to end, but regardless, she settles next to him, content in feeling his arms lock around her in a gentle embrace.   
She's ready for this. 

Ready to leave, ready to start anew.  
And apparently, ready to fall asleep in a Wraith's arms.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Sihah feels a light touch on her cheek, the sensation of sharpness against her skin, and slowly, she rises from her slumber. It takes her a moment to situate herself in the waking world again, but when she does, a feeling of warmth comes over her.

The Wraith is fully dressed, sitting on her bedside, and lightly trailing his claws along her cheek, his gaze lingering gently on her. She smiles up at him, and senses his mind connecting to hers. The way he pulls her into the contact has her almost flinching out of it, but she does not.  
He's missed her mind's embrace, but hasn't dared to enter her thoughts in her sleep, considering it a great disrespect toward her.

'The villagers are still searching for me.' he lets her know. 'It will not be long until they begin suspecting you.'  
Sihah makes a disapproving noise.  
'I know. They always do.' she responds. 'We must leave this planet soon.'

The Wraith inclines his head in agreement.  
'I reckon, returning to the woods to fix my ship is out of the question.' he muses. 'The villagers will be swarming the area.'  
'They'll be concentrating their search around the wreck.' she responds, and looks up at him.  
He looks better than last night, and now that she sees him in daylight, she gets a better idea of his physique.

His sharp, elegant features have gained definition, and the faint, matte undertone in his complexion is gone. There's a light shine on his skin, as if it were wet, and his eyes are lined with a dark, almost black shadow, defined and sharp. There's a complicated pattern of lines and swirls, just below his hairline, previously hidden by the wound on his forehead, framing the right side of his face delicately.  
Fine, dark veins shimmer through his skin, contrasting his pale green with a slightly darker shade.

A brief smile curls around his lips; he's obviously noticed her staring, and he angles his head.  
'If we wait for nightfall, we may be able to reach the Stargate under the cover of darkness.' he then suggests. 'And then, we may consider our next steps.'  
'The Ring of the Ancestors, yes!' Sihah sits up, the Wraith perks up. 'It is some days' travel away from the village, but none of the residents ever go near it.'  
'Why is that? Human settlements tend to be located close to the Gates.' he inquires and Sihah sighs.  
'That's where the Cullings start.' she responds. 'They believe, our Ring is cursed, because all it sends us, is death.'  
'Do you believe this?' he asks her, a slight hint of anxiety in his presence.

'You came out of the Ring, did you not?' is her simple response, and an impulse of warmth reaches her, from his end of the contact.

His feeding hand reaches out, and he rests it against her chest, scanning her for hints of fear. There's nothing for him to find; Sihah simply remains still, and upholds contact.  
'I have dreamed of this.' he speaks again, sealing his feeding organ against her skin, not hard enough to hurt.  
It feels like a kiss, at best.

'This?' she asks, and he nods wordlessly, retreating back into his mind to find the proper words.  
Eventually, he returns to her.  
'Humans,' he begins. 'are radiant. You burn hot, but your flames die down so quickly. Ever since my early days, this has fascinated me to no end. You are human enough to intrigue me, but Wraith enough to forge a meaningful connection to me. Your mind is alien, yet so familiar to me. It is hard to describe.'

'What of last night? What happened between us, does that have any meaning to you?' She feels foolish, asking a Wraith such a question, with as little as she knows about their kind.  
Sensing the uneasiness in her question, he withdraws his hand from her, letting it sink down to his knees.  
'It does.' he says, firmly and without leaving any room for doubt. 'Your presence stuck out like a beacon, from the moment I entered your world. You cared for me, when you could have easily killed me. Intimacy, vulnerability feels simply natural.'

'I am not certain-... I may not live up to you people's standards, mentally or physically. I can speak to you like this, but I am still human.' Sihah feels like crying, now that the excitement of the past day has faded. She worries greatly; leaving the planet, living with this ancient creature?

'Standards?' He feels oddly amused, as he parrots her. 'You have been able to converse with my kind for your entire life, yet you understand so little of us?'  
'My conversations were usually one-sided.' she admits. 'Never as direct as my interactions with you.'

'You have been treated as lesser by your people.' he assumes, the apparent change of subject throwing Sihah off, somewhat.  
'I have, yes.' she confirms, and he raises his chin.  
'Have they given you a name?' the Wraith inquires, his series of questions making less and less sense.  
Puzzled, Sihah furrows her brows.  
'Yes. Well, my mother did. We get assigned names when we are born.' she tells him and he nods understandingly.  
'Did she aid you?' he continues, and she shakes her head. 'Yet, you still carry the name she gave you.'  
'What else am I supposed to do?' she asks, and flinches when she hears him laugh with his verbal voice.

He retreats from their connection briefly, as if to ponder something, and caresses her cheek again, sunlight reflecting off the carapace fingerguards.  
'Among my people, names mean a lot.' he finally discloses. 'Once you broke with your mother, it would have been expected of you to shed the name she gave you, and ask someone close to you for a different one. People who care for are a part of you, thus, they dictate your name, something so integral to your identity.'  
Slowly nodding, she listens, still not entirely certain what he means to imply by all this.

'You are concerned that you may be lesser than others again, if you flee with me.' he offers as an explanation, sensing her confusion. 'Your name may be part of this. Other Wraith might see you as weak, lingering in your past.'  
'My past is a part of me.' she counters, and he smiles at her again, baring teeth.  
'Of course it is. But it must not dictate your identity.' he counters. 'Your name is your brand, how people see you. It should accentuate your good qualities.'  
'My name means nothing. It's just a common name on this planet.' she says, quietly, almost trying to hide under his presence.

'That is why I am telling you this. I want to offer you a new name.' he responds, lifting her chin up, to force eye contact. 'It is common among my kind for Consorts to give out names, once a partnership begins.'

She almost physically feels her eyes light up. Partnership. Consort. Denying that she likes the sound of that would be futile. A proposal, she ponders, and the glint in his eyes confirms it.  
'What did you have in mind, then?' she requests.

'Amaryllis.' he responds abruptly. 'I have been wondering all night. I believe, it fits you.'  
'What does it mean?'

The Wraith shifts, moving closer, and pulling her into his arms as he responds.  
'It is a flower.' he elaborates. 'I encountered it on my travels, and informed myself about it. In some cultures, it signifies pride and sovereignty, traits associated with those that stand above the rest for good reason.'

Pride, indeed, starts swelling in Sihah's chest, along with the overwhelming need to touch this Wraith, to caress him, to show affection. Her hands reach out, fold in the back of his neck, and pull him close. He obliges without a shred of resistance, and willingly goes in for the kiss, when their lips meet.

Pines.  
He still smells of pines.

Their kiss is brief, almost chaste, but they remain entangled, their foreheads touching, eyes closed, breathing synchronized.  
'I accept this name.' she speaks into their connection, and feels a wave of satisfaction wash over her Wraith-...

Her Wraith.  
She feels him chuckle, and he turns, fully pulls her onto his lap.  
'I do have a name of my own, you see.' he informs her. 'Would you like to know it?'  
'Please. Tell me what it means, too.' she asks, as she settles, leaning against his chest.

'Reverie.' he says, his tone feeling solemn. 'My Commander gave it to me, when I was very young. I was prone to daydreaming – I still am – and unlikely, uncommon ideas. That is what earned me this name.'  
An elegant word, Sihah muses. It fits him well.  
'Reverie.' she parrots, feeling his soft approval in her mind. 'Tell me, just how old are you?'  
'Not old, by Wraith standards.' he responds nonchalantly. 'I am not even halfway to my first thousand.'  
'Older than me.' she says, and feels his chest rumble with laughter.  
'That was to be expected.'

Hours pass by, with idle silence, simple companionship and exploration of each other's minds. Sihah scours the vastness of Reverie's old spirit, the things he's seen and felt, and he lets her, not expecting reciprocation. Both are well aware that Sihah does not have much to show, aside from unpleasant things.

He reveals to her that he is a scientist, a Cleverman, as he calls it. Shows her a little side project he's spending his leisure time with – flowers, plant life, colorful and lively, having overtaken an entire room of his quarters, some moving independently, some with a faint glow, some in colors Sihah has never even seen before, and in their midst, Reverie, gleefully caring for his plants.  
He shows her the Amaryllis, her namesake, its bright red, star-shaped bloom, and the scent they emit.

Wordlessly, he takes her by the hand, and shows her his home, his Hive, talking an imaginary walk through its many halls, showing her consoles and contraptions, showing her flowing text in a language she doesn't understand.  
Reverie's mind feels darker and full of gloom, when they pull back into reality.  
He's homesick, Sihah-... no. Amaryllis presumes, and stretches up to plant a reassuring kiss on his forehead. Closing his eyes through the touch, Reverie emits a low, humming sound, akin to his purr.

A sudden intrusion has Amaryllis flinching hard, and a jolt goes through Reverie's form, too. There's someone else-... many people; mental tendrils reaching out and taking a hold of anything they can grasp. Amaryllis' form twitches, and she clings to Reverie, as a strong, much more forceful presence draws her close. Reverie holds on to her, hovering protectively between her mind and the other entity.

She feels herself forced out of the contact, naked and cold in the waking world, without her link to Reverie. Sitting perfectly still, his eyes focus a point beyond her, blinking slowly and deliberately. Fear feels heavy on her chest, but the pressure is quickly lifted.

'Be not afraid, Amaryllis.' a voice sounds in her head, foreign, but much gentler. Reverie's presence touches hers again, but he remains silent.  
Amaryllis inhales sharply. The connection feels like a fist locking around her throat. She cannot respond.

'We are coming for you. Reverie will know when it is time to step outside.' the voice tells her, their powerful grip slowly loosening. 'We will meet in person soon.'   
The presence leaves her, and immediately, Reverie occupies the open space.

'You have nothing to fear. I told her what you have done for me, told her your name. She will not harm you.' he assures her, and adds, under her confusion. 'Fireflight. My Queen.'  
Amaryllis freezes.  
'A Queen?' she parrots, feeling worn out and almost pained after the contact.  
'Yes. I attempted to tell her, you may not be ready to speak to her yet, but she insisted.' Reverie says, apologetic in his tone. 'The Hive will cull this village, and once the initial panic is in effect, they will come and retrieve us.'

Breathlessly, Amaryllis nods, the chattering voices of hundreds of Wraith now in the back of her mind. Forcing herself to focus on Reverie alone, she blocks them out. They're here, closing in quickly.

'Why were you here, if they came to cull anyway?' she asks him and Reverie nods.  
'I was going to survey this planet. The Hive that had claimed this territory fell to our alliance, and I was sent to evaluate their feeding grounds. Unfortunately, before the battle was won, our enemy had uploaded a virus into our main systems. We vanquished it, but some Darts were still affected. I crashed, due to a malfunction, thanks to the virus.'

Amaryllis nods slowly, mimicking him.  
'Are the Darts they send now safe?' she inquires.  
'I would assume so. Queen Fireflight would not have launched this rescue mission, were she not certain of my misfortune's causes.' Reverie assures her, and leans back, drawing breath deeply.

'I am very much ready to go home.' he lets her know. 'And I am eager to take you there. Show you my world.'


End file.
